


Moving on

by liars_dance



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:04:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5518052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liars_dance/pseuds/liars_dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean thinks it is time to start living again. An AU with a festive feel, originally posted in 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving on

Viggo shivers and stamps his feet a few times, trying to get some feeling into his toes and wishing he'd put thicker socks on that morning. Wrapping his hands round his mug, he sips at the hot tea and watches a young family park up outside and come through to the christmas tree enclosure where he'd worked for the last two weeks - all commission and cash in hand of course - nothing formal. The more he sold, the more money he got and Viggo had sold a lot... He'd read about the traditions of christmas, the significance of the different types of plant, the folklore and committed it all to memory. He'd studied the different types of trees, how to look after them and what was suitable for where. And as a result, he'd sold dozens of trees and holly wreaths, many swags of ivy and laurel and countless bunches of mistletoe. And today was his last day; tomorrow he had to do some last minute shopping - or more accurately, all of his shopping. But he'd not got much to buy; a few gifts for a few friends and a little something for his landlady to keep her sweet - but no family. It had been a long time since he'd been home to the US; there was no-one there for him now. Not that there was anyone over here now either... 

Viggo gives the family a few minutes to start looking around while he finishes his tea, then he pulls on his fingerless gloves and his woolly hat. Just as he's about to head over towards the family, he notices someone else in the enclosure - a man - on his own, wearing a sensible heavy overcoat and a scarf knotted casually around his neck. There was something about him that made Viggo look closer. The man looked out of place almost - like he shouldn't be here - like he'd come in by accident. Viggo glances towards the family for a moment but then walks towards the man.

The wind whips round the rows of Christmas trees in the small fenced enclosure, sending scraps of branches and a multitude of pine needles swirling across the ground. Sean pulls up the collar of his overcoat, grateful he'd chosen to wear it, and glances up into the ominously coloured sky. It was a snow sky without a doubt; surely it would be only be a matter of time before snow started to fall. And a white Christmas - now that'd be a novelty. Sean couldn't remember the last time it snowed on Christmas Day - but he could remember the last time it rained... For a moment his vision blurs, the cold wind making his eyes water so he steps into a slightly more sheltered spot and turns his attention to the rows of trees.

 _No - I'll get it on my way home, Sean. You're useless at choosing trees. Last time I let you, you brought home a three foot stunted excuse for a tree that had already lost more than half its needles. And when I asked why, you said that you felt sorry for it..._ Sean closes his eyes and presses his face into the scented branches of one tall cut tree as David's words ring through his head. They were the last words Sean heard him say in this world, apart from a hurried 'see you later' as he'd left for work that day; the day before Christmas Eve. But Sean never did see him later, because it was three years ago today since David walked out of their house and never came back; killed in a hit and run accident on his way to the tube station. Sean didn't have Christmas that year and he hadn't had it since. He wasn't even sure if he could make himself buy a tree this year - but he was passing by on his way home from the bank and he thought he'd just take a look. Because he'd promised David that he'd look this year. David had always loved the scent of pine in the house... 

"You got a particular tree in mind there, sir?"

A soft American voice interrupts the repeating circle of thoughts in Sean's head and he turns, quickly stepping away from the tree as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't.

"What?" he asks the owner of the voice, who was wearing a bright woolly hat and a warm smile and had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"M'sorry, didn't mean to intrude on you there. You go right on sniffin' - cause they smell wonderful. Call me over if you need any help."

Sean stares for a moment and then nods, unable to speak but grateful for the man's uncommon perception of his mood. He watches him walk over to a young family who had entered the enclosure. The children were pointing to a huge tree and but their parents were shaking their heads, saying it wouldn't fit in the car. The little boy started to cry and the owner of the American voice squatteds down next to him and whispered something; soon the child was giggling happily. 

Sean sighs and turns his face back into the tree, remembering the one David had brought home for the first Christmas together in their new home. Sean could smell it the moment it was inside the door. "It'll smell even better when it warms up, love," David had said. "That's why it's best to have them near, but not next to, a direct source of heat." So the living room it was - in the corner near the fireplace - and continued to be for the next two years. 

"I am going to get a bloody tree, David," Sean whispers into the cold air. "Even if I don't do anything else to mark this fucking awful time of year. Because I miss the scent of Christmas in the house more than I bloody well miss you. And don't worry - I'll get one that's healthy this time." He steps back, dry-eyed and smiles, hoping no-one had heard him supposedly talking to himself. He'd started talking to David on the day of the funeral because fuck knows he couldn't talk to anyone else that day... And he'd carried on talking to him - not all the time - or even every day, but mostly when he had to make a decision about something - or when he just needed to say how he was feeling. And David was such a good listener - now. "Funny - you're a much better listener now than when you were alive," Sean murmurs, pushing his hands into a pair of black leather gloves and starting to look a little more closely at the trees stacked along the perimeter fence. "Okay, let's see what we've got here."

"Sorry - were you talkin' to me?" 

The soft American voice again interrupts Sean's thoughts and he turns, but this time there was a smile on his face - a rather embarrassed smile. "No - I was talking to meself," he replies. "They say it's a sign of going senile." 

The American smiles in return. "Then I'm goin' senile too. I talk to myself all the time. I find I get into fewer arguments that way," he adds with a wink and then casts a glance down the line of cut trees. "Was it a cut tree you were wantin'? Or a potted one?"

Sean pauses. The American had the most amazing blue eyes - and the skin at their outer edges crinkled when he smiled... "Pardon? Oh - a cut one. We tried a potted tree once but it didn't survive when we put in the garden."

"They rarely do," the American replies. "Reckon it's just too much upheaval for them to deal with. One minute those little trees are growin' happily in a field, then they're dug up and put in a pot and brought inside into a 70 degree heat and not watered at all for the whole of Christmas. Not surprisin' they don't take well to bein' planted outside in January."

"No," Sean replies. "I don't suppose they do, not when you put it like that. Anyway I'm wanting a tall tree - the potted ones are too small."

"Okay - a cut tree it is. So - you want a non-drop variety or a traditional?"

"What? I didn't know there was such a thing as a non-drop variety!" Sean shakes his head. "When I were a lad, you just got the biggest one you could carry home either on your shoulder or on your bike and only worry about whether it'd fit through the door when you got home." He chuckles and glances round. "What I'm really wanting is a bluey green one that smells good - like the last one we had. D'you have something like that?"

"Sure." The American smiles and points a little way down the row. "Sounds like you want a Blue Spruce. They're a low-drop tree with silver-blue tint to the needles and a smell that really makes you think Christmas. There's some down there - smallest is about seven feet I reckon and the tallest around twelve - so think about your ceilin' height. Go take a look..."

Sean grins. "Thanks. I know this is going to sound a bit stupid, but what am I _looking_ for? The last time I brought a tree home I got me head in me hands to play with."

The American chuckles. "Lady of the house knows what she wants - huh?"

Sean's smile fades and he looks away. "Something like that, yeah..." he murmurs, his fingers smoothing over a plump tree branch. He was remembering the time when they'd first moved into the house. Sean was invited to a 'welcome to the community' drinks party - to which neither of them had wanted to go. But go they did and Sean would never forget the neighbours' faces when he turned up with an already slightly drunk David, who'd introduced himself as the 'little woman'... Gob-smacked didn't describe it. But like every other being on the planet who ever met him, all their immediate neighbours were very soon eating out of David's hand. Sean takes in a breath and turns away from the memory and back towards the American who was looking at him intently.

"So, I should be looking for what exactly?"

"A tree with fresh, flexible branches - they shouldn't be brittle. The needles should be fresh too - like the ones you're touchin' there. An' don't be afraid to shake the tree gently. The outer needles shouldn't fall off. Okay?"

"Okay. Great - thanks."

"You're welcome. So go look and see if there's one that you like and I'll be back in a minute; I need to put another layer on - it's damn cold out here today."

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" Sean smiles sympathetically. "It's usually just wet and mild around Christmas. Today it's cold enough to snow. You go do what you need to - I'm fine here." 

The American nods and grins and jogs back towards the rear entrance to the small nursery shop while Sean watches him go, taking in the long lean legs and the easy roll of his hips and thinking thoughts he hadn't let himself think for quite a while...

In the end, Sean found it easy to choose a tree. The Blue spruce was indeed the tree he'd been looking for and he selected a healthy looking specimen that was about eight foot tall. He checked it over carefully, using the American's criteria and when he shook it, the needles remained intact. "This one healthy enough for you?" Sean asks softly and then grins. "Yeah - thought it would be..."

"That the one?"

Sean turns and smiles. "Yes. Decision's made..." 

"Great. You got a stand for it?"

"A stand?" Sean repeats, his brow furrowing a little. "We've just used a bucket with sand and soil in the past.."

The American shakes his head and smiles. "No, be kind to your tree, sir - _please_. I know some folk would say - me included by the way - that you can't harm the tree itself anymore because it's already dead - cuttin' off its roots kinda has that effect. But you might as well make its death as worthwhile as possible - yeah? And see, over recent years, Forestry Commission boffins have discovered that it's possible to encourage a cut tree to drink water. This prevents it from dryin' out and reduces needle drop. So the buyer - in this case, you - gets a tree that stands a chance of lookin' good into the new year."

"Oh, I see; I didn't realise," Sean replies, trying not to think about what happened inside his pants when the American said 'sir' and 'please'. But of course, trying not to think about it meant thinking about it - and thinking about him saying please in other very different situations... Sean clears his throat. "So, what do I do to make this tree's death worthwhile then?"

The American smiles and walks over to a large box nearby. "That's easy. First up, you buy one of these," he says softly, pulling out a green metal stand with a large round tube in the middle. "Then just before you put up your tree, saw an inch or so off the bottom of the trunk. This opens up the pores in the bark and allows water to be taken up by the tree by somethin' called capillary action."

Sean nods, thinking he could listen to this man talk all day. "And then?" he asks softly.

"Then as soon as you can after cuttin' it, stand the tree in plain water, not soil or sand, in a bucket - or a water holdin' stand like this." The American grins. "You don't really need the stand, y'know. You can wedge the tree with rocks in the bucket if you want. The stand just kinda makes it easier - an' I get extra commission if you buy one," he adds with an almost imperceptible wink. 

Sean's mouth suddenly feels dry. _How the hell can I be getting hard listening to a total stranger talking about capillary action and wedging a tree trunk in a bucket of water, for fuck's sake?_ But getting hard he was, and Sean was once more grateful for the time he'd taken to look out this overcoat. "Then I'll buy one," he says with a smile. "You've told me things I never knew about christmas trees..."

"Yeah? Great," the American replies. "So let's get this tree wrapped for transport," he adds, nodding towards a strange cylindrical contraption loaded with fine white mesh and then grasping Sean's tree in his fingerless gloved hands. "Where are you parked, by the way? I'll help you into the car with it. Just please don't tell me you drive a Mini..." 

"Parked?" Sean repeats, stopping dead in his tracks. "I don't drive - well I can - I just don't have a car. Damn - don't you do deliveries?"

The American shakes his head. "Sorry - no. The owner used to but not any more. Too many people wanting them delivered in the evening, so he says." 

Sean sighs and shakes his head, his unexpectedly buoyant mood deflating fast. "No - it's me who should be sorry. I was just walking past the place and came in on a whim. Sorry - I've wasted your time - I wasn't thinking. Silly of me to leave it to the last minute to decide to buy one. But thanks for all your help though - and the education. Have a good Christmas." He half turns, but the American touches his arm.

"Wait. I'll deliver it this evening when I'm finished here if you like. I'll tell the owner that the tree's for me and I'll pay for it. You can pay me when I deliver it - okay?"

Sean stares back at the American's face, seeing nothing that would lead him to think he wasn't genuine. "Won't you get into trouble for doing that?"

"Nah. Besides - today's my last day in the job. Gotta have tomorrow to do my shopping'. See - I always leave everything to the last minute too." 

Sean smiles, captivated - almost ensnared by the warmth he sees in the American's eyes. "No," he murmurs. "I can't ask you to do that. I live fairly close but it's bound to be taking you out of your way."

"No, it won't - unless you're gonna tell me that by close you mean Brighton, I don't mind. Honest. I wouldn't offer if I did. And you sure seem to like that tree, so..." The American smiles at Sean, as if willing him to say yes.

Sean grins. "Well, if it's okay by you, that'd be great. But I'll pay you now," he says firmly. "And have you a scrap of paper? I'll write down my address. Name's Sean by the way," he adds, putting out a hand. 

"And I'm Viggo," the American replies, taking Sean's gloved hand in his and shaking it firmly. Then he pulls an old folded envelope from his pocket and hands it to Sean. "I'll go get a pen - back in a minute."

Sean watches him go, taking the tree with him. Sean feels a sudden shiver - a shiver of... A shiver of what? Anticipation? Lust? Fear? _Probably a mixture of all three,_ he thinks, pushing his hands in his pockets and following Viggo towards the back of the shop. _Unusual name; maybe I'll get the chance to ask him about it later..._

\--[*]--

Large flakes of snow were falling as Viggo pulled his old van to a halt. Peering through the passenger window at the row of tall, imposing Edwardian terrace houses across the road, he tries to decipher which one is the one he wants. Suddenly a security light goes on outside one of the houses and he could see the numbers more clearly. Strange how he suddenly felt a little nervous... Viggo climbs out of the van, and opens the rear doors. Pulling out and shouldering the tree and its stand, he locks the van, before setting off across the road and up the steps to the front door of number 17. There was a lovingly polished brass knocker in the middle of the beautifully painted black door and Viggo raps it twice then steps back. He doesn't have to wait for long.

"Hey there - I brought your tree," he says rather unnecessarily as Sean opens the door.

"So I see," Sean replies, pulling the door wide. "And I see you brought the snow too," he adds with a grin. "Come on in."

"Thanks." Viggo steps inside, wiping his boots on the rough coir mat and then moving forward into the hallway. "Wow..." Viggo murmurs, setting the base of the tree down on top of his boot as his gaze sweeps up the turned staircase with its polished mahogany handrail to the elaborate plaster coving on the ceiling high above. "Tell me you're gonna put the tree right there at the bottom of the stairs, please. It'd look amazing there."

Sean grins. "Sorry to disappoint you - but I want it in the living room next to the fire. That's where we always - where _I_ want it... I want to be able to see it." 

"But you can see it out here everytime you walk up the stairs or down - or walk to the kitchen or whatever - and the scent'll rise all the way up to the ceiling..." Viggo trails off and looks at Sean with a lopsided grin. "Sorry - I'm being pushy. But I'm assuming you'll want to saw it somewhere else? No sense you making a mess where its not needed."

"True," Sean replies looking at the tree. "Might as well do it here as anywhere else. And thanks again for lugging it round here."

"That's okay. And I hope it meets with your wife's approval this time," Viggo replies, smiling as his hand reaches out to the door handle. 

Sean frowns as he watches Viggo begin to open the door. This wasn't what he was expecting. Not that he knew what it was he was expecting exactly but Viggo leaving again this quickly definitely wasn't it... "Wait - you don't have to go right this minute, do you? I was going to make some tea."

Viggo stops. "Well, no - but I thought you'd want to get on with sorting the tree - with your family," he murmurs.

"I live alone, Viggo. No family. No wife - no children.." _No love..._

There's a moment's silence in the hallway, then Viggo clears his throat. "I'm sorry, Sean. Was just something you said - I thought..." 

Sean steps closer and smiles. "My fault. I still say 'we' when I should say 'I'. There was a 'we', Viggo - but he was killed three years ago; three years ago today to be exact."

"Shit," Viggo murmurs, a rush of embarrassed colour flushing his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Sean. I dunno - me and my big mouth."

"Don't be sorry - you weren't to know. And I'm fine - this is just a difficult time of year for me - but it's getting easier. And this-" Sean strokes his hand over the lower branches of his Blue Spruce, " - this is my first tree since David died. First time I've wanted one." He pauses and smiles at Viggo. "Maybe you could give me a hand with it?"

"Sure," Viggo replies without hesitation. He smiles at Sean reassuringly, feeling drawn to the man in a way he hasn't been drawn to anyone for a quite a while. But Sean's revelations have also left him a bit off balance - he was expecting to find a family man with a wife and a couple of teenage children; someone to admire and desire from a safe distance. Now things had changed. "Want me to saw off the base while you make the tea?"

"Great idea," Sean replies. "Leave the tree there and come through to the kitchen while I find you a saw - it's warmer in there."

\--[*]--

Ten minutes later, the tree was about two inches shorter. After they'd cleared up the minimal mess, Viggo carried the tree through to the living room while Sean carried the stand and a watering can full of fresh water.

"Put the stand where you want it, then pour some water into the tube," Viggo explains. "Don't fill it to the top - or the tree'll displace it all over your carpet." He watches Sean do as he instructs, placing the stand in the corner of the room away from the fire. "Okay?"

Sean nods and grins. 

"Okay," Viggo continues, moving towards Sean carrying the tree. "I'll lift it over the stand - you guide it in - and mind your fingers; I don't wanna trap them." 

A few moments later the tree is in place. Viggo tightens the bolts that hold the trunk steady in its stand while Sean stands back to admire it. But try as he might, his gaze wants to rest more on the curve of Viggo's arse in those tight cord jeans than the beautiful blue spruce tree... 

"Is it straight?" Viggo asks, still kneeling on the carpet.

"Is what straight?" Sean asks distractedly and Viggo chuckles as he stands up.

"The tree," Viggo murmurs, joining Sean by the fire to look at the tree. "What did you think I meant?"

Sean laughs and runs his hand through his hair. "Sorry, I was thinking about summat else. The tree looks great, Viggo - thanks. Now, let's have that tea. Take a seat - I'll be back in a minute..." Sean smiles and leaves Viggo in the living room while he goes off to make the tea. 

Back in the living room, Viggo glances around the simply but elegantly furnished room. The open fire was throwing out some serious heat as well as a soft light and Viggo moves closer to it, grateful for the warmth. He'd already noticed the photograph on the bookcase but resists the temptation to go look - just in case Sean returned and caught him. So instead he closed his eyes and lets the fire's warmth seep through his clothes.

"Right." Sean's low, rumbling voice interupts Viggo's quiet meditation. "How d'you take your tea?"

"A little milk - no sugar, thanks."

"Fancy some fruit cake? My cleaner makes them - its very good. Really moist with lots of those cherries - I love cherries in a cake." _Shut up, Sean. Let the man answer..._

"Yeah - why not."

Viggo sits down and glances at the small black and white portrait in its simple frame on top of the book case. "David?" he asks softly, taking a slice of fruitcake from the plate Sean is offering to him.

Sean smiles. "Yes - that's him. Ugly git isn't he? Look at the size of that nose."

Viggo grins. "Oh, I dunno." He pauses and looks down at his slice of cake with its glistening red cherries. "How did David die, Sean? What happened - if you don't mind me asking."

Sean puts down his mug. "I don't mind at all. It's good to talk about him - especially now I can do without crying. It was a hit and run accident not half a mile from here. It was eight o' clock in the morning and according to eye-witnesses this car just mounted the pavement and mowed him down. Two other people were injured but David was killed outright apparently. Some passers-by rugbytackled the driver when he tried to run off. He got 10 years." Sean lifts his mug and sips at the hot tea. "He was 19, uninsured and high as a fucking kite on drugs."

"Sean." Viggo swallows and sits forward in his chair. The urge to wrap his arms round the man and just hold him was almost overwhelming - but he stayed where he was. _Much too soon for that_... "I'm so sorry. I can't begin to imagine what it must have been like for you."

"Hard," Sean says softly. "We'd been together for just three years and in this house for half that time. He was a softly spoken Aussie with a wicked sense of humour and the most incredible dimples in his arse." Sean winks at Viggo and then continues. "I loved him, but he wasn't always easy to live with - but then neither was I probably. Friends told me this time last year that I should be letting go of him - that I'd grieved long enough - but I hadn't lost a lover before - well, not like that any road - so how was I supposed to know how long's long enough?" 

"You don't," Viggo replies. "Everyone's different because everyone's circumstances are different. Ignore them. But for what its worth, you seem to be doing okay."

"That's because I am - I think, Sean replies. "I've moved on - quite a lot in some ways and not so much in others. I've had other relationships - well, not relationships really - more encounters, I suppose. But I go out, I go on holiday, and I plan for the future. I'm working - even changed jobs, and made new friends as well as kept up with old ones. And I haven't sanctified him or anything - I can see David's faults as well as his strengths - remember the things that irritated the hell out of me as well as things I loved... I still visit the spot where he died on the anniversary of his death though - which is today - sorry, I said that before..." Sean sighs and looks up at the ceiling for a moment. "Y'know - people placed flowers and messages where it happened. Amazing what total strangers'll do. For a fortnight or so it was like a shrine by the side of the road. David's family wanted to take his remains home and although that hurt, I didn't argue. They never accepted we were together and thought I were the bloody devil incarnate..." Sean pauses and sips at his tea some more, before setting down his mug. "Besides, David wouldn't have wanted me visiting a grave - and he'd have liked the idea of ashes going back to Australia - he'd say that's where they belong, after all." Sean glances at Viggo and smiles, despite the painful memories. "Sorry - cricketing joke..."

Viggo smiles in return and reaches out to grasp Sean's hand, squeezing his fingers gently. _Not so amazing, Sean. This stranger wants to hold you real bad right now..._ Sean's fingers return the squeeze and for a few moments there was an easy silence in the room, broken only by the odd crackle from the logs on the fire. 

"This house is my sticking point," Sean says suddenly. "David loved the place - he designed and carried out a lot of the things we did here. No-one has ever stayed here since he died. I didn't want anyone here at first - it was like they'd be intruding on us. Because for the first six months I was sure he hadn't actually gone - how loony is that? Sometimes his presence in the house was so strong, I swear I could see him - touch him, even. It's not like that now though. Slowly over time I realised I just didn't want anyone here, that's all. Here I could just be me - dealing with being near middle aged and being alone. And even now I can't imagine ever selling the place; it'd be like leaving him behind."

"Then stay here if you're happy here," Viggo says softly, loosening his grip on Sean's hand and then gently letting go before sitting back in his chair. "But I'm a bit surprised you feel like that. You don't think David'd go with you if you sold up?"

Sean swallows and looks at Viggo. _God, you're beautiful - and here you are listening to me drone on about someone who you never knew and who's been dead and gone three years..._ "Yes - but moving out of here would be a huge step. If I sold the place, I'd feel guilty about moving on and doing things because he no longer can. There were so many things he wanted to do, Viggo. But maybe it's because I'm also scared he  will go with me," he murmurs and then shakes his head. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Why?" Viggo asks, leaning forward in his chair again. "You can't harm David by saying that - and saying it doesn't cancel out the time you had - or spoil the memories of your time together. David's death was bad not just because it was unexpected but because it was _premature_ \- he was robbed of all those things you say he wanted to do. He had interests to pursue and realising them was a real prospect... And you were part of that. But because he's gone, it doesn't follow that you have to end your life prematurely too - or curtail it - because that seems to be what you're doing right now, Sean. Saying that you're scared David will follow you just shows you're ready to move on some more - not that you're ready to forget him - or that you don't love him any more. What you're saying is that the time when you seek his approval for everything you do is coming to an end - that you're ready to live for _you_ now, Sean - not for the both of you. And I'm betting that David would want you to live again - even if _you_ can't bring yourself to love again."

"But I _do_ want to love again," Sean interjects, the truth of Viggo's words slowly hitting home. His lips curl into a smile. "It's just that I've not been ready to say that out loud - until now." Sean pauses and shifts in his chair a little. "What you just said makes a lot of sense - a bit unexpected, like - but a whole lot of sense..."

Viggo grins and he feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Yeah, well - I study philosophy - and teach it part time. See, to me, philosophy isn't just something to be read about - it's become part of who I am and it defines how I live - how I think, make decisions - things like that. Imagine spending your whole life wearing a lamp on your head like those crazy pot-holers do when they're underground. Wherever they look, the light follows and they see everything in that light. That's what philosophy's like for me. It throws its light on everything I do from selling christmas trees to how I teach, to helping a friend. Am I making any sense?" 

Sean nods. "Yes - yes, you are - a lot of sense, in fact. So selling Christmas trees was just a casual job?"

"Yeah - and all cash in hand too. But don't tell the taxman..." Viggo smiles in return and looks directly at Sean. He looked happier now than he did at the nursery - younger somehow, more relaxed - beautiful really in his own way. Viggo clears his throat and looks down for a moment as if fearful that Sean might see what he was thinking. Then he puts his hands on his thighs and prepares to stand. "And, on that note, I guess I'd better be going or I'll be here all night - that fire of yours is kinda soporific..." Viggo sighs and stands up. "But I've got things to do, as they say. Thanks for the tea, Sean - and the cake. I really appreciated it - it's been damn cold out there today; this is the first time I've felt warm."

 _Same here, Viggo..._ Sean smiles and puts down his empty mug, feeling a little sorry that he wasn't going to have the pleasure of watching Viggo doze on his sofa... Yet despite the disappointment he feels at Viggo leaving, he also feels strangely at peace with the world. Like some of the past had been suddenly washed away - or at least some of the hurt. And there was a warm glow inside him that wasn't just due to the tea... The tree looked good there in the corner and as he stands up as well, he could already smell its characteristic scent. "My pleasure," he says softly. "Least I could do when you'd gone out of your way to bring it here - and help me get it up." Sean cringes at his accidental but still extremely crass choice of words but Viggo doesn't seem to have noticed and Sean watches him as he tugs on his well worn jacket and fastens it, his long fingers making quick work of the zipper. "And thanks for listening. You're a good listener, Viggo."

Viggo smiles and nods his head. "You don't learn things unless you listen," he murmurs in reply then heads out of the room into the hallway. At the door he pauses and takes one more look around the large hall with its beautiful turned staircase. "Still think that blue spruce would look better out here," he says with a grin. "But it's your tree and your Christmas. And it's your _life_ now, Sean - no-one else's. So you make it a good one, okay?" He puts out a hand and Sean takes it without hesitation. 

Viggo's hand was just so warm and a tingle travels down Sean's spine as they shake hands. "You too, Viggo," he whispers. "And thanks again - for everything..." Then the warm grip was gone and Sean can only watch as Viggo opens the door and steps out into the cold snow filled air. _He's going. Say something. Do something. Ask where he lives..._ But Sean doesn't say or ask anything. Instead he watches as Viggo heads down the steps from the door to the pavement, then after a cursory glance left and right, jog across the snow-covered road to his parked van. 

"You too," Sean repeats as he reluctantly closes the front door. The house seemed very quiet again, but oddly not as empty as it had felt before - as if some trace of the American's presence remained. Sean shakes his head and glances at the space at the foot of the stairs. Viggo was right. The tree _would_ look good just there. Maybe it _was_ time to break old taboos - start living for himself again... Sean smiles as he thinks of something. Maybe - just maybe, he'd go back to the nursery shop tomorrow and get another tree - if there were any left by then of course. Lots of people bought their Christmas trees on Christmas Eve... "Yup, that's what I'll do. I'll go to the nursery tomorrow and get another tree for out here in the hall. Maybe I'll get a different type this time. No rules against having two trees now, are there?" Sean's smile widens as he realises that the question he just asked, he'd asked of himself... Still smiling, he returns to living room to build up the fire, but his smile fades as he sees the two empty mugs and plates sitting side by side on the table and remembers what Viggo had said.

_Today's my last day in the job. Gotta have tomorrow to do my shopping... See - I always leave everything to the last minute too..._

The disappointment Sean feels takes him by surprise. It had been so bloody long since he'd felt like this - since he'd wanted anyone in his house - or in his bed... Just as he was trying to find somewhere in his mind to file away that particular thought, the doorbell rang and Sean sighs. _Please - not the neighbours inviting me round for bloody cheese and wine again - please - tell me it isn't them..._ Sean pleads silently as he goes to front door and pulls it open. But it wasn't his irritating neighbour who was standing on his doorstep - it was Viggo - wearing a sheepish smile and a light dusting of snow.

"Sorry, Sean. I think I might have lost my van keys down the side of your armchair. Leastways they're not in my pocket and I know they were when I came in here. Mind if I take a look?"

"Course not - come in," Sean says with a huff of laughter, holding the door open as Viggo comes back into the house and heads straight for the living room. Sean watches him, suddenly breathless. _It's a sign, that's what this is. It's a bloody sign - a second chance..._ By the time Sean has closed the door and returned to the living room, Viggo is already on his knees with his hands pushed down the sides of the seat cushion and a studied frown on his face. Sean smiles as Viggo's frown suddenly turns into an infectious grin as his left hand comes up with a small bunch of keys dangling from his fingers.

"Found them," he says softly, pushing himself back onto his feet. "I reckoned that's what must've happened. I'm always losing the damn things."

"No worries," Sean replies, wondering if he dare say the words that are circling in his head. 

"Right," Viggo murmurs. "I'll be off - again. Don't forget to top up the water in that stand now - a tree that size can drink two or three pints a day... And thanks, Sean - again." Viggo smiles and moves quickly to the front door to open it. 

_Do it. Do it now or he'll be gone..._ Sean takes a breath. "Viggo - wait. What're you doing on Christmas Day?"

Viggo turns in the doorway. "Nothing special. Just meeting some friends - and drinking too much, I guess. Usual kinda thing."

Sean nods. "Ah, right. Is that a usual kind of thing you could maybe get out of?"

Viggo rocks on the balls of his feet. His breathing was a little faster all of a sudden - and his mouth was a little dry too. He licks his lips. "I guess so. Why?"

Sean clears his throat. "Well - I'm on me own - as you know - and I wondered if you'd like to join me for dinner. You're good company and I'm a pretty good cook, just in case you were wondering..." Viggo's eyes were like luminous blue saucers and Sean's heart starts to beat as it hasn't done for a long time as he stares into them. "But if you'd rather not, I won't get all offended, like."

"I'd love to."

"I mean, we've only just met - so I understand," Sean continues. "I don't make a habit of asking strangers to dinner by the way."

"Sean - I said I'd love to come to dinner."

"You would?"

Viggo steps away from the door and closer to Sean. He smiles, his head on one side. "Sure I would. Are you surprised?" 

Sean laughs nervously. "Yeah - suppose I am. Don't know why."

Viggo smiles and reaches out, very slowly taking Sean's hand in one of his own and covering it with the other. There didn't seem to be any objection to this gesture forthcoming so Viggo very gently strokes the back of Sean's hand with his thumb. "It's not too late to change your mind, y'know. I won't get all offended," he says softly, repeating Sean's words. "After all, this is a difficult time for you - an important anniversary. And we only just met - so I'd understand."

Sean lets out a sighing breath and looks down at where Viggo was holding and stroking his hand. This was different to when Viggo had grasped his hand earlier. Then it was such an instinctive and utterly human gesture letting Sean know that he wasn't alone - but now - this was a _caress_... and Sean can feel a tingling warmth spreading up his arm and across his chest and into parts of his body that hadn't felt warm for a long time. Suddenly Sean knows that even if this encounter doesn't turn into a relationship - but he was already hoping it would, of course - there was no way he was going back to what he was before he set eyes on this smiling, blue eyed man. "Change me mind?" he asks with a little jut of his chin - and then grins. "No - course not..." 

Viggo chuckles and squeezes Sean's fingers once before slowly letting them go. That was enough contact - for the moment... "Great. When would you like me to come?"

 _Now, there's a question..._ Sean stares at Viggo for a moment, wondering if he'd actually said that out loud, then exhales slowly and smiles. "How about midday? Then you can give me a hand with the vegetables. Stay as long as you want - stay all day if you like..." _And all night..._

Viggo laughs. "Sure - that way I get to help you wash up too, huh? That's okay - I'm pretty good at that - had a lotta practice over the years."

Sean grins. "Ah, so you saw through that little plan. But no - don't worry; I've got a dishwasher, so your washing up skills won't be required. Just your company, Viggo. Wait a minute - you're not a vegetarian, are you?" 

"Hell, no," Viggo replies with a wink as he pulls open the door once again and steps outside into the snow. "See you at twelve on Monday." Again he moves down the steps to the pavement but at the bottom he stops and turns. _It's no good. I have to tell him - even if it spoils everything..._ "Sean?"

"Yes? What is it?"

"I lied, Sean, that's what." 

Sean grins. "You mean about being a vegetarian? It's nothing to be ashamed of, y'know."

Viggo moves slowly back up the steps towards where Sean is standing. "No - not about that. I didn't lose my keys. I felt some kind of connection between us today - starting back at the nursery - and I didn't want to just say goodbye, y'know? So I came back, hoping you'd felt it too. Anyway, I've probably gone and fucked up here, but I needed you to know. I didn't want us starting out on the wrong footing." Viggo pauses but Sean doesn't say anything, so he stuffs his hands back in his pockets. "So, what d'you want now, Sean? You still want me here on Monday?"

Sean stares at Viggo, his breath seemingly caught in his chest. _Starting out..._ Suddenly that just sounded so good and Sean's capacity to co-ordinate thought, respiration and speech, returns. "Even more so," he says without hesitation, then glances up into the night sky, half expecting to see a bright star overhead but instead hearing David chuckling somewhere far away. By the time Sean's gaze returns to Viggo's eyes, he was smiling. "You were right, Viggo. I felt something between us too and I need to - _want_ to start living again. Today might be a sad day - but it was David who sent me to the nursery this morning - so it seems right to begin again today too."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Viggo murmurs. 

"And _I'm_ glad you 'lost' your keys," Sean replies, staring in fascination at a snowflake that has landed on Viggo's eyelashes and wondering how many shades of blue one person's eyes could actually be.

Viggo blinks and blows snow out of his eyes and smiles. "So am I, Sean. Okay - so I'll see you Monday. I'll bring some wine. Anything else you want me to bring?" he asks, stepping slowly backwards down the steps, but his eyes never leaving Sean's.

Sean swallows. "Yes, Viggo. Bring some mistletoe - and your toothbrush."

\--[END]--

 

 


End file.
